


I Caught Fire

by just_folie_a_deux_it



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Little bit of fluff at the end, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:11:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9653555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_folie_a_deux_it/pseuds/just_folie_a_deux_it
Summary: Ryan just keeps telling himself the only reason he lets it get this far is because it's convenient





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from The Used

Ryan really couldn’t tell you how it started. Most would probably claim it was the ‘stage gay’: the first time Brendon walked over and caressed his face, smacking a kiss on his cheek like thousands of people weren't watching, like it was nothing. Some might say it was the first time Brendon had the balls to crawl right up into Ryan’s lap on the tour bus when they were all watching Aladdin for what felt like the millionth time. Everyone had sort of held their breath, watching the two, because Ryan Ross did _not_ do touchy feely, and here he was with a lap full of Brendon Urie cuddling up into him as if they were boyfriends. But Ryan didn’t move, didn’t shove Brendon off, he just leaned back and watched Jasmine get accused of stealing. Did he have a boner? Absolutely, but that was Brendon’s fault for wriggling around all over the place trying to get comfortable, it wasn’t like Ryan was _gay_.

No, he really couldn’t say the first time he dragged Brendon into the bathroom and kissed him like the singer was air and he was suffocating, but somehow he ended up with bruised lips and a panting Brendon staring up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. And Brendon didn’t ask ‘why?’, didn’t try and put a label on them or anything, he just went along with it, no questions asked.

To be fair, Ryan didn’t plan for it to get this far. He really didn’t— he just enjoyed having a hand shoved down his pants that wasn’t his own, enjoyed getting to watch Brendon use his mouth for something other than begging Ryan to come watch fucking Aladdin with him, enjoyed having a warm body next to his in the middle of the night when he just couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t ‘feelings’, it was just something convenient and Ryan never pretended otherwise. And it wasn’t like Ryan hadn’t fucked around with other people either, he’d had girlfriends, and he’d had sex, and he’d had friends with benefits, so he knew how to do this, and if sometimes he got butterflies in his stomach when Brendon smiled at him like he was the Sun, well, that was probably just indigestion.

Except now he was here. And this, he didn’t know how to do this.

He could try and blame the atmosphere, the ‘before’ that had preceded the ‘now’. It was a hotel night, and everyone had grown used to the easy division of BrendonandRyan, and Spencer and Jon. They didn’t even call rooming with anyone anymore, Zack just handed out hotel keys and Ryan tried to keep up as Brendon raced for the elevators. Ryan fucking loved hotel nights, it meant a warm bed and something other than a tight bunk to pin Brendon down on as they kissed needily. A shower too, with hot water and real water pressure, and if Brendon snuck in sometimes while Ryan was in there it just meant an easier clean up in the long run.

After putting all of their shit away, one of the dancers—Ryan thinks maybe it was Dream—had suggested going down to the beach, and somehow they’d all ended up stumbling in the sand, stripping off their clothes and laughing as the waves splashed their ankles. Ryan could blame the way Brendon’s skin had seemed to glow beneath the moonlight as he ran into the ocean, arms outstretched and a smile splayed across his face. He could blame how as soon as he’d waded in, Brendon had swam over and laced his fingers with Ryan’s, kissing his hand and whispering “This is what we’re here for. What we’re meant to do.” into his palm. Hell, he could blame how warm Brendon had felt plastered against his body as they stepped out of the sea, clinging to each other to avoid falling, and shivering in the cold air, but it’d all be complete bullshit. It was Brendon, just Brendon, always fucking Brendon.

But as they headed back to their rooms to rest, Ryan told himself it was just convenience that got him where he was now. Brendon was around, he was easy, that’s all Ryan needed. Convenience.

It’s what he told himself every time he and Brendon ended up tangled in each other on the hotel bed, panting and hard and grasping at each other for dear life. It’s what he told himself tonight, as he’d pushed Brendon down onto the bed and hovered over him, biting lightly at his bottom lip and grinning at the moan he’d received. It’s what he told himself as he shoved the singer’s damp shirt up and slid a hand across the expanse of skin before him, kissing down Brendon’s chest and stomach. It’s definitely what he told himself when he’d gotten Brendon’s jeans off, thrown across the room, and he continued to tell himself that this was all just simply convenience right up until Brendon spoke.

“Are we gonna do this?” The singer's voice was breathless as he stared up at Ryan with wide brown eyes. His cheeks were flushed a bright pink that matched his shining, kiss-swollen lips.

Ryan blinked, looking down. “Do what?” He asked, absently stroking Brendon now that he had fully stripped the singer.

Brendon’s cheeks flamed a little brighter. “You know. It.” He mumbled, shivering and arching up into Ryan's hand.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly and looking down at the younger. “It? You mean sex?” He asked. “What are you, twelve?”

Brendon glared and huffed, and Ryan had to admit he looked at least a little adorable with his mussed up hair and pink cheeks and pouty lips.

“No, I am not twelve, you fuck. That’d make you a pervert.” He snapped.

Ryan only chuckled, leaning down and pressing his lips lightly to Brendon’s frown. “We could. Why? You wanna?” He whispered. It would be their first time, at least together. Living on the road made sex a difficult thing to accomplish, so they'd only gotten as far as rushed handjobs and the occasional blowjob, when there was time. He could feel Brendon shudder beneath him, felt the goosebumps rise on Brendon’s skin beneath his hands, and he smirked.

“Ah, well, maybe? I— I only ask cuz— fuck— you know, I’ve never like— done...it.” He finished lamely.

Ryan blinked and pulled all the way back, staring like it was suddenly the first time he was seeing his bandmate. “You’re a virgin?” He whispered.

Brendon’s closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his already messed up hair and tangling his fingers there, tugging lightly. “Of course I’m a fucking virgin, Ross. Please enlighten me as to when I would have had sex with anyone between growing up in a Mormon house where drinking coffee sent you to Hell, and then touring with three other guys who seemed straight.” 

Ryan frowned, one hand absently caressing Brendon’s bare hip, only pressing just slightly. “I didn’t— I don’t know. I just sort of assumed. I mean, you’re nineteen, you’re hot, whatever, I assumed you’d have gotten laid.” He shrugged. It didn't matter, of course. This made no difference, it was just sex, it wasn't like Ryan's first time was anything special. First times were overrated, people put far too much weight into how your first time having sex went and who you did it with. This changed absolutely nothing.

Brendon raised a brow, grinning. “You think I’m hot, Ross?”

“When you’re not talking.” Ryan retorted, batting Brendon's hand out of his hair and replacing it with his own, pulling just slightly and making the other catch his bottom lip between his teeth and groan. “Anyways, you wanna do this?” 

Brendon looked up, eyes wide and dark in a way Ryan had never seen before. Something like excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear sparkled in his gaze. There was a beat of silence before Brendon’s breathless “Yeah.”

Ryan raised a brow. “You’re sure?” He wasn't about to be accused or coercion or pressuring the younger boy, even if first times were overrated, consent wasn't.

Brendon nodded, swallowing. “I’m sure.” He murmured. “I mean, after all, we’re best friends. Who better to lose my virginity to than you?” He lips were quirked in a teasing smile, but his voice was unsure, as if he really were expecting an answer.

Ryan just rolled his eyes and leaned down, catching Brendon’s lips in his own and beginning to stroke him again. “It’s just fucking, Bren. Not a big deal.” He mumbled. It wasn't like they were boyfriends in love who wanted to feel close to each other or some shit like that. This was purely convenience. 

“R-right, just fucking.” Brendon nodded, breath catching as Ryan twisted his wrist on the upstroke.

After a minute Ryan reached over into his bag and pulled out condoms and some lube, tossing it onto the bed.

“What, were you expecting this?” Brendon teased, pushing himself up onto his elbow and twisting his lips into that one smile that gave Ryan serious indigestion.

“As if you’re the only one I fuck.” Ryan scoffed, rolling his eyes and popping the cap open on the lube.

The flash of hurt that flickered across Brendon’s face was something Ryan pretended not to see, but all the same he glanced back over.

“B, when the fuck would I have the chance to fuck someone else?” He sighed, rolling his eyes again.

A nervous laugh left Brendon and he nodded. “I know, and whatever, you know? I don’t care who you fuck.” He blushed. 

Ryan didn’t say anything, didn't dare think about how he knew that Brendon was lying from the way he refused to look at Ryan when he said it and how his laugh was an octave higher than it usually was. He just began slicking his fingers up before hovering back over Brendon, kissing him quick before settling his lips beside the boy's ear. “Spread your legs.” He whispered, nosing gently across Brendon’s cheek.

Brendon swallowed and nodded, head falling back as his legs parted, allowing Ryan to situate himself between them. He let one cool finger tease the younger’s entrance, not sliding in, but probling lightly. It was almost like trying to press against a brick wall.

“Relax for me.” Ryan breathed, planting another kiss to Brendon's temple in hopes it might help.

Brendon nodded, biting his lip lightly, and Ryan could feel him relax a fraction. He slid in the first finger, gentle and slow, though Brendon gave a soft noise all the same.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, lightly twisting the finger inside of Brendon.

“I’m okay, it’s just...weird.”

Ryan gave a small smirk. "What, you've never done this before?" 

Brendon rolled his eyes. "I already told you, dumbass, I'm a virgin."

Ryan shook his head, moving his finger in and out. "To yourself, stupid." He said. The image of Brendon leaned back with his legs spread wide and his fingers deep inside of himself was enough to make Ryan feel suddenly very hot and he pushed it out of his mind.

If possible, Brendon's cheeks flamed even redder. "Wh— what? N— _fuck_!" He cried, hips bucking up. "Do that again." He gasped, and Ryan could feel his chest rising and falling much faster than it had been before.

"I'll take that as a no." He hummed, pressing his finger up into Brendon's spot again. "Tell me when you're ready for another." 

After a few seconds, Brendon nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

Ryan pulled his finger out, watching Brendon with careful eyes before pushing two back in.

The singer bit his lip, groaning softly.

"Good?" Ryan asked.

Brendon nodded. "Good." He breathed, rolling his hips down slightly.

"Just tell me if we need to go slower or anything." Ryan murmured absently, sliding his fingers in and out, scissoring them in an attempt to loosen Brendon further.

Brendon closed his eyes, and Ryan could see his breathing slow, most likely in an attempt to relax. He'd been with plenty of people before, but never a virgin, and he himself had never bottomed, so he couldn't quite imagine what Brendon might be feeling.

“You good?” He asked again, pressing his fingers in a little further and curling them.

Brendon's entire body jerked and his eyes squeezed shut as he choked out a moan. “I am if you do that.” 

Ryan laughed softly, twisting and sliding his fingers in and out of Brendon until the younger boy seemed ready to take a third. He pushed the next digit in, watching the singer’s hole swallow his fingers and hummed. “Alright?” 

“I’m fine, Ross, I’m not gonna fuckin’ break.” Brendon snapped, though it was hard to take him seriously when he was practically fucking himself on Ryan's fingers and leaking all over his stomach.

Ryan raised a brow, pushing all three fingers in as far as he could, eliciting a yelp.

“Hey, fucker!”

“It shut you up, didn’t it?” Ryan curled his fingers again.

The moan that came from Brendon’s lips sent shivers down Ryan’s spine, and he told himself it was just that he wasn’t used to having to wait this long, to having to be so careful, so he was wound tight and anything could set him off. It’d go easier next time, smoother. It’d be more convenient.

“I’m ready, okay, I’m ready, just fuck me.” Brendon gasped, steadily rolling his hips down onto Ryan’s fingers now.

“One more, just one more and we’ll be good.” Ryan soothed absently, rubbing his free hand across Brendon’s hip and lightly pressing his fingers into the bone.

“Ryan, I’m no-”

“Bren, trust me. You’re gonna want four.” Ryan said firmly.

Brendon looked up at Ryan like he wanted to protest, but the guitarist just pushed in the fourth finger and Brendon’s lips went from ready to argue to a perfect O shape. Ryan could literally see the blood drain from his face, turning the pink flushed cheeks to a pale, pale white.

“F-fuck, Ross, gimme a sec.” He whispered, fingers clutching the sheets lightly.

Ryan nodded. “You’re fine, it’s alright. Just breathe.” He murmured, voice low. The singer had started to shake and quickly Ryan leaned down to kiss him in hopes of distracting him from the pain.

Brendon sucked in a breath, chest rising and falling and his hands relaxed. “Go ahead.” He mumbled, eyes falling shut.

He looked terribly beautiful to Ryan, dark lashes fanning across his cheekbones, messy hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. In all honesty he looked absolutely wrecked, and Ryan felt a surge of pride shoot through him at the knowledge that he’d done this, this was his work.

He pushed in all four fingers, careful not to stretch Brendon too quickly. “Relax.” He reminded, moving to stroke Brendon as another distraction. “Just breathe.”

Brendon nodded, alternating between rocking up into Ryan’s hand and down onto his fingers. “Yeah, yeah, s’good, I’m good.” He mumbled, reaching up to pull Ryan down, crushing their lips together again.

Ryan groaned softly, and the feeling of Brendon’s tongue sliding against his own went straight to his dick. “Okay, okay, you ready?” He asked, trying to hide the desperation in his voice. He was never the desperate one, and he wasn't about to be with a goddamn virgin. 

“Yeah, ready, fuck me, Ross.” Brendon whispered.

Ryan groaned softly at the words, nodding and pulling back. He slid his fingers back out of Brendon and instead grabbed a condom and the bottle of lube again.

“Your fingers are kinda shaking, you okay?” Brendon teased, smirking up at Ryan. Some of the color had returned to his face and his breathing was even once more. 

Ryan glanced over as he rolled the condom on. “I’m fuckin ready to get off, I’m not used to having to baby little virgin boys through their first time having a dick up their asses.” He said as he slicked himself up.

“Fuck you, just cuz I don’t walk around with big sticks up my ass like some people in this room.” Brendon huffed.

Ryan just hovered over Brendon and pushed his legs apart, getting positioned. “Deep breath.” He said softly.

“What, wh-shit!” Brendon cried, as Ryan began pushing in, hands flying to the older’s back and nails digging into the skin there so hard he could feel the skin break.

Ryan clenched his teeth, breath catching. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight.” He groaned. He hadn't been lying before, it'd been ages since he'd had sex with anyone, and now, after months it felt like absolute bliss. The fact that Brendon was the tightest person he'd ever felt before only made it ten times better.

Brendon didn’t even say anything, he just panted shallowly, eyes screwed shut.

“Breathe, Bren, fuckin’ breathe, relax.” Ryan murmured, pressing his forehead against Brendon’s.

“Just g-gimme a second.” The singer whispered.

Ryan nodded, gently rocking his hips to help loosen Brendon up. “It’s okay, take your time, tell me when.”

Brendon moved one hand up to Ryan’s hair, lacing his fingers in the locks to pull the other closer. “O-okay, move. Slow, be careful.” 

All of his bravado from before had disappeared and Ryan could hear it in his voice that Brendon was doing his best to just relax and take it, that he wanted to be good for Ryan. The guitarist took a breath and began pushing in a little further, concentrating on moving slow and not hurting Brendon. He closed his eyes, just listening to the singer’s little noises and breathing to make sure he was taking it alright, rocking his hips gently. It'd be far from convenient for the singer to start hyperventilating or something.

“Doing okay?” He mumbled, teeth catching his bottom lip.

“Yeah.” Brendon whispered.

“Can I move?”

Brendon nodded. “Yeah, m-move.”

Ryan inched himself in slowly, getting about halfway before he opened his eyes and glanced down at Brendon. The younger was staring up at him with wide, trusting eyes that shone with something Ryan couldn’t quite gather. It took a moment for the guitarist to grasp the fact that this was Brendon’s _first time_. No matter what Ryan felt about it, the singer was placing himself in Ryan’s hands and looking up at him like he’d gone and hung the stars or something. Like he was giving Brendon something other than a quick fuck, like this all meant something. Like they meant something.

“Are you okay?” Brendon whispered.

Ryan tore himself out of his thoughts, laughing slightly. Was he okay? Was _he_ okay? He’d gone and hooked up with countless people, fucked more than he could remember and Brendon — who had never had even given a handjob before Ryan— was asking if _he_ was okay?

“Yeah, I’m fine, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I think you’re good to move.” Brendon said, looking up at Ryan with those fucking doe eyes.

Ryan nodded and pushed in swiftly, groaning as he bottomed out, hips meeting Brendon’s.

Brendon cried out and arched his back, the hand in Ryan’s hair clenching and the other fisting the sheets.

“Fuck, B, you’re so tight, fuck.” Ryan whispered. His entire body felt taut from the effort of not snapping his hips into Brendon and fucking him senseless.

“R-Ryan, wait, don’t move.” Brendon whimpered, biting his lip.

He was clenched tight around Ryan, and it was nearly impossible for the guitarist to keep still. Still, Ryan nodded and moved so his lips were by Brendon’s ear.

“You’re doing so good, baby, taking me so good, just relax, it’ll feel so good in a minute.” He mumbled, one hand snaking down to stroke Brendon.

Brendon moaned, nodding and loosening his grip slightly. “It hurts.” He whispered.

Ryan wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard the words, but he leaned down and kissed Brendon softly anyways.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing good, so fucking good, I’ll make you feel so good, just breathe for me, okay?”

Brendon nodded, teeth catching his bottom lip. “O-okay, move.”

Ryan took a breath and pulled out slightly before pushing back in, going slow to get started. He clenched his teeth, eyes screwing shut in an effort to keep control. “Shit.” He whispered.

Brendon whimpered softly again and Ryan leaned down to kiss him, their lips moving gently against each other. Ryan couldn’t help but shiver as Brendon’s tongue brushed against his, his hips jerking forward slightly.

“Sh-shit, yeah.” Brendon breathed, and Ryan pulled back a bit.

“Good?” He asked, repeating the action, a little harder.

“Fuck!” Brendon cried, nodding.

Ryan grinned slightly and moved his lips down Brendon’s, ghosting them across the other’s cheek and down his chin, pressing along his jaw.

“You feel so good.” He whispered, nipping at the place where Brendon’s jaw curved up to meet his ear.

Brendon shuddered and moved one hand up under Ryan’s arm to clutch at his back. Ryan took this as a good sign and began moving a little faster, rolling his hips steadily into Brendon’s now. The soft noises leaving Brendon only fueled Ryan further and he pulled back enough to hook his elbows up under Brendon’s knees, tossing the younger’s legs over his shoulders and thrusting in.

Brendon cried out, pulling Ryan as close as he could get now. “Fuck, yes, Ryan please, yes.” He breathed.

“Good, you’re doing so good, fucking made to take me, made to take my cock.” Ryan groaned, panting as he thrusted in and out of Brendon, pressing his forehead against the younger’s.

The words were tumbling from Ryan’s lips like it wasn’t his job to spend hours artfully crafting them into something beautiful, but as he looked down at Brendon, the younger in complete bliss, the lyricist couldn’t bring himself to care.

Brendon’s eyes were shut, but as Ryan slowed, the other let his lids flutter open and he stared up. How come Ryan had never noticed the deep chocolate color of Brendon’s irises? How had he not caught the way they shone when he got excited, gleaming as he moaned Ryan’s name? How in the hell had Ryan missed the way Brendon tugged his full bottom lip between his teeth when pleasure rocked through him, groaning from somewhere deep in his chest. Somewhere along the line between cautious handjobs and now, Ryan hadn’t bothered to see the way Brendon was absolutely beautiful.

“Ry.” Brendon moaned, dragging Ryan down closer to him so their chests were flush together, pulling his legs down to wrap around Ryan’s waist.

“Wh-what, fuck, Bren?” Ryan mumbled, pulling himself out of his head and snapping his hips into Brendon a little harder.

“Ry, I’m close.” Brendon whimpered, nails digging into Ryan’s shoulder blades.

Ryan nodded, moving one hand between them to stroke Brendon and slamming into the other like his life depended on it. “So cum, come on, do it for me, come on, baby.” Ryan mumbled, stroking his hand faster around Brendon.

“Shit, Ryan, yes, yes, fuck, yes!” Brendon shouted, pulling Ryan down so he could mash their lips together. “Ry, I’m- _Ryan _!”__

Brendon clenched tight around Ryan, nails scraping down the guitarist's back as he came all across their stomachs and a little on his chest. Ryan groaned, giving a few more thrusts before he was done, cumming hard and pressing his face up into Brendon’s neck.

After a minute, Ryan pulled out, panting. He quickly tied the condom and tossed it away, falling onto his side by Brendon. He glanced over, struggling to keep his eyes open, and noticed Brendon breathing shallowly as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Are you okay?”

Brendon blinked and looked over, brown eyes tired and the smile on his lips slightly strained. “I’m good. That was...fuck.” He breathed, looking back to the ceiling.

“‘Fuck’ good or ‘fuck’ bad?” Ryan frowned, pushing his arm up under his head to look at Brendon. Not that it really mattered, of course. Ryan never had cared much how whoever he was fucking felt about the sex as long as they both got off. And even that wasn't really a necessity in his eyes.

“Good.” Brendon whispered, eyes falling shut. “So good.”

Laying there with his eyes closed, one hand resting in the mess on his stomach and the other above his head, Brendon looked like he’d just had the fuck of his life. His hair was all over the place, sweat glistening in the hollow of his throat and his collarbones, his cheeks flushed. He looked absolutely wrecked, and the sight might have turned Ryan on if it were another person, if he’d not just cum, but instead it made him feel fiercely protective in a way he didn’t understand.

“A-are you okay?” He tried again, the words falling out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Brendon looked over, surprise etched across his face. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little sore is all, but it’s good. I like it.”

Ryan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “No, like—you know. Are you _okay_? Was it good? What you wanted? Do you regret it?”

He had no idea where all of these questions were coming from, it was just fucking for Chrissake, why was he acting like some pathetic insecure boyfriend? Why did he even care what Brendon thought about him? This was all just convenience, it was supposed to just be convenient, nothing more.

“Regret it? No, Ross, I was with you. I could never regret it.” The smile that spread across Brendon’s lips was genuine and twisted Ryan’s heart in his chest so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“Good.” He mumbled, laying back down. “Good, I’m glad.”

Brendon nodded and rolled over, pressing himself into Ryan’s side and closing his eyes. “Thank you.” He whispered, moving so he could lay his head on the other’s chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat.

Ryan glanced down, letting one arm wrap around Brendon. “For what?”

“For this.” Brendon sighed sleepily, slinging an arm around Ryan’s waist and yawning. “For everything. For doing this with me.”

Ryan blinked and blushed, cheeks turning bright pink. “Y—yeah, of course. You’re welcome.”

There's a beat of silence, and then Brendon looked up at him. “Stay with me?” He asked softly. “Just for the night?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, B. I’ll stay.” He murmured. It's not like he had much of a choice, what with them sharing a room together, but he can't even pretend that if things were different, if they were somehow staying in entirely different hotels across the city, that he'd leave.

No, Ryan really couldn’t say what got him here, couldn’t tell if it was the stage gay or Aladdin or Brendon mumbling Ryan’s name in his sleep, but here he was. Here he was with Brendon wrapped tightly around him, snoring softly and breathing even. Here he was laying in a hotel bed with his bandmate turned best friend turned he didn’t know what, cuddled together after they’d just had the best sex Ryan had had in ages. And here he was staring up at the ceiling like someone up above might tell him why he felt like even though he’d just been the first person to ever fuck Brendon, he was the one open and vulnerable and confused.

It was all supposed to just be convenient, that’s what he’d told himself countless times. But as Brendon stretched and nuzzled a little closer into Ryan, the idea of convenience, of ‘just fucking’ somehow slipped into something else. Something Ryan strangely didn’t feel afraid of the way he had countless times before. He looked down at the sleeping form against him, mind racing. Suddenly he just wanted to stay here forever. He imagined the two of them laying in bed for all of eternity, the Sun dying out and the world ending, and all they would do for the rest of their days was what they’d just done. Made love.

Ryan mentally flinched at the phrase in his mind. He’d always made fun of those who claimed they ‘made love’ or ‘gotten intimate’. It was just sex, just fucking, but the way that Brendon had looked up at him was as if he wasn’t simply inside Brendon’s body, but was pushing inside his soul as well. He’d looked at Ryan as if it was far more than fucking. He’d looked at Ryan like they were making love, melting together, merging into one being that was simply made up of touching and tasting and feeling. He’d looked up at Ryan as if he’d seen something in Ryan’s eyes that no one else could, something good, something Ryan didn’t believe was in him. He’d looked up at Ryan like he was in love.

“Bren?” Ryan whispered, biting his lip.

There was no response, just a small snuffle from the younger and a little movement, the singer deep in sleep.

“I love you.”


End file.
